


What you don't surrender (the world just strips away)

by heydoeydoey



Series: losing myself here lately [3]
Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Episode 2x16 "War", Harvey is getting there slowly but surely, Headcanon, I thought I was veering away from canon but it turns out I caught up after all, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-25
Updated: 2013-05-25
Packaged: 2017-12-12 22:00:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/816528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heydoeydoey/pseuds/heydoeydoey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a mess and it's only going to get messier.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What you don't surrender (the world just strips away)

**Author's Note:**

> Title borrowed from Bruce Springsteen's "Human Touch", one of my favorite songs of all time.

 

Harvey snaps awake to the sound of his phone ringing, his heart racing from the adrenaline rush of waking up so quickly.  He fumbles in the dark for his phone, his fingers clumsy and he tries to answer the call.  Phone calls at two in the morning are never good, and he expects to have a police officer or an emergency room doctor on the other end of the line.

“Harvey Specter,” he says.

“You weren’t supposed to answer.” Of course it’s Mike.  Harvey is surprised to discover that his anger from less than twelve hours ago has faded, nothing more than a flash in the pan.  He’s never been able to stay angry with Mike; he wonders why he thought this time would be any different.

“What?”

“I was just going to leave you a...what’s it called?  Voicemail.”

“Mike, it’s two in the morning.  What the fuck do you want?”

“Shit.  Sorry Harvey, I didn’t want to wake you up.  But I had an awesome idea and I needed to tell you right this second before I forgot.”

“You never forget anything.” Harvey says. “Are you high?”

“No,” Mike says, and promptly starts giggling. “I’m drunk, but I’m not high.”

“That’s so much better.” Harvey says flatly.

“Oh, c’mon, I’m allowed to have fun sometimes.  We—and by _we_ I mean the lowly associates whose names you don’t know—went out for drinks tonight.  Because our jobs are stressful."

“You don’t know from stressful, kid.” 

“I take offense to that.” Mike says archly. “You’ve never been running from the cops and spilled a bag of weed on the floor of one of New York’s fanciest hotels in front of a lawyer.”

“That’s true.  You had something to tell me,” he prompts.

“Oh yeah.  I had the best idea.  For after I get fired, which we all know is going to happen sooner or later.”

Mike says this much more cavalierly than he would if he were sober. “Anyway, Specter and Ross.  That’s my idea.”

“Specter and Ross.” Harvey repeats.  His brain is moving too slowly for this, still sluggish from sleep.

“Yeah.  Our firm.  Totally awesome, right?”

_Our firm_.  God, Harvey wants that, although his reasons are not strictly professional.  It surprises him, actually, how much the idea appeals to him.  His name on the door, next to Mike’s.  It would be the best kind of hard work, equally challenging and rewarding.

“You gave yourself quite the promotion there, first year associate to name partner.”

“My idea, my name.”

“Why not Ross and Specter then?”

“Because I know how much it matters to you, being first.” Mike says sardonically, and it’s reassuring to know he doesn’t lose all his good qualities while drunk.  Just his ability to speak with an indoor voice and most of his better judgment. “But it’s a great idea right?”

“It bears some thinking about,” Harvey says neutrally.

“I’ll have to go to law school.  You know, before.  Somewhere in the city.  Columbia, maybe.”

“Not Harvard?”

“Hey, Harvard, I’ve spent the last few years saying I have a degree from you to pretend to be a lawyer in one of the best firms in New York City.  That’s going to look great on my application.”

“If we manage to come out of this without getting _arrested_ , there’s no way in hell you’re advertising it on your law school application.”

“We?”

“Yes, we.” Harvey says.  The truth is, there’s not much chance of him surviving the implosion that will happen at Pearson when the truth about Mike comes out.  He’s known that since the day he put his job on the line for Mike.  Jessica will have to fire them both, and if Harvey were one to bite the hand that feeds him, he’d bring her down with them.  But he isn’t, so he won’t.  Jessica will be the kind of ally they need if they’re going to start their own firm.

Of course, getting fired also means losing clients and building his reputation back up from scratch.  It’s one thing to talk about Specter and Ross at two in the morning when Mike is drunk, it’s another thing entirely to actually make it happen.

But Harvey doesn’t want to be at Pearson if Mike isn’t there and that’s either the silver lining or the fly in the ointment of all of this.

“It’s gonna take us a really long time.  I wouldn’t blame you, if you wanted to save your career.”

Harvey doubts how much of a career he’s going to have once Pearson officially becomes Darby Pearson or Pearson Darby or Darby Pearson Scott.  Harvey doesn’t care whether Edward Darby likes him, but he knows Darby doesn’t trust him and neither does Jessica at this point.

“I might not have that choice.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I went into this with my eyes open.”

“Do you have Thanksgiving plans?” Mike asks, and Harvey doesn’t mind the abrupt change of subject.  It’s not as if he enjoys thinking about the inevitable demise of his career.

“Yes.”

“I don’t.  I bet you go somewhere upstate and have one of those Norman Rockwell family Thanksgivings where everyone is blonde and the turkey is never dry and everyone watches football and lists all the things they’re grateful for.”

“You spend a lot of time thinking about my personal life?”

“No,” Mike says defensively, his tone speaking louder than anything.

“My brother and his wife live in Buffalo.  The turkey is almost always dry and no one is blonde.”

“ _You_ go to Buffalo?”

“Not willingly,” Harvey says, although it’s a lie.  He likes going to see Oliver and Molly and the girls.  For the briefest of moments he considers inviting Mike.  But he knows better, so instead he says, “Donna hosts an orphans Thanksgiving dinner.”

“Really?”

“Her family lives out west.  She sees them at Christmas instead.  She doesn’t cook, but there’s plenty of take out and good booze to go around.  I was there a few years ago.”

“I did something stupid.” Mike says, and Harvey would be willing to bet they’ve finally gotten to the actual reason Mike called him.  Harvey doesn’t snap _what now_ even though he wants to.

“I told Rachel.  She knows I’m a fraud.”

“Mike.”

“I know, I know.  It was like the worst thing I could possibly do.”

“Don’t be a drama queen.  You could’ve told Hardman.”

“So...you’re not mad?”

“Oh, I’m furious.”  For now, anyway.

“Harvey, I’m sorry.  You and I had just had it out and she cornered me...it was so stupid.  I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Fix it.”

“How?”

“I don’t care.” Harvey says.  “Your mess, you clean it up.”

“I slept with her.”

That shouldn’t hurt Harvey nearly as much as it does, but it’s like getting punched in the gut—it makes his breath catch and his body tense and his heart stutter.

“Jesus, Mike, when you fuck up you don’t do it by halves.”

“I know, okay?  I know I’m an idiot and I know this is one of those things you’re never going to let me forget, but I’ve been just lost without Grammy and you keep saying I’m going to be fine but I can’t...I don’t...” An ugly sob breaks Mike’s voice and Harvey feels like an asshole even though he’s the one in the right here.

“Mike.”

“Just don’t.  Not tonight.  I don’t need a fucking lecture from you tonight.”

_You called me_ , Harvey thinks, annoyed, but he pushes the impulse to argue aside.  Kicking the puppy, especially when the puppy is already crying, doesn’t ever make him feel better in the long run.

“No lecture.” Harvey promises. “Just calm down.  Maybe drink some water.”

Mike laughs; it’s a garbled, wet, disgusting sound but at least it’s not crying. “You might need to practice the comforting thing if you’re ever planning on kids.”

“Luckily, I’m not.” Mike is quiet on the other end of the line, and Harvey sighs. “I’ll deal with Rachel.”

“You don’t have to.”

“One of us needs to make sure she understands what’s at stake here, and it has to be the one that can have the conversation and keep his clothes on.”

“Harvey—

“Mike, I’ll deal with this.  I’ll see you Monday.”

“Happy Thanksgiving,” Mike says, his voice heavy with apologies.

“You too,” Harvey sighs, before hanging up.  He sends Rachel an email and tries to go back to sleep.  He’s still wide-awake four hours later when his alarm starts blaring.

 

 

The train is just pulling out of Albany when his phone rings in his pocket.  It’s Rachel, right on schedule.

“How dare you,” she snaps in his ear before he can say anything.

“I know,” Harvey says. “I’m a dick and Mike’s a liar and you’re so incredibly disappointed in both of us.”

“All of that is true, but how dare you threaten me, Harvey!”

“Those weren’t threats.  They were certainties.  Nobody is going to come out of this cleanly, including you.”

“So you want me to lie?”

“Do you want Mike to go to jail?”

“No, but—

“But nothing.  You tell anyone, that’s what will happen.”

“I can’t work with him.  I can’t even look at him.”

“No one is asking you to.  Go to law school.”

“I can’t.”

“There are other law schools.”

“Not if I want to work for this firm.”

“This firm is the Titanic and we already hit the iceberg.  Get out.”

“If you believed that, you’d be gone already.”

“Don’t be naïve.” Harvey snaps. “You’re better than that.”

“Why aren’t you giving Mike the same advice, then?” Rachel counters.

“I thought you didn’t care about Mike.”

“I never said that.” He can imagine the stubborn lift of Rachel’s chin, her arms crossed over her chest; she cares too much, more than she wants to.

That makes two of them.

“I won’t tell anyone,” she sighs.

“Thank you.  Think about what I said.”

“Happy Thanksgiving, Harvey.” She says, before hanging up.

The train seems to move too slowly after that, dragging through the small towns between Albany and Syracuse, the scenery all autumn leaves and green hills.  He emails Mike, tells him to stop worrying about Rachel and gives him Donna’s address for tomorrow.  He works for a few hours, but he puts his computer away after Rochester.  He needs to switch off from work, if just for the rest of today and tomorrow.  He can just be Harvey, older brother and uncle, not New York’s Greatest Closer.

 

There’s almost no one left on the train when it rolls to a stop at the station in Buffalo, and Harvey spots Oliver standing on the platform with Lucy, who waves enthusiastically at the train even though she can't see exactly where he is.

"Uncle Harvey!" She cries, running to hug him as soon as he steps out onto the platform. 

He picks her up easily, swinging her onto his hip. "What a greeting," he grins. "How are you, stinky feet?"

"I'm good, wart face."

"Wart face! You can do better than that."

"I have to start you off easy," Lucy says matter-of-factly.

"Oh I see. New strategy."

Oliver snorts. "You two are so weird."

"Thank you," they say simultaneously.

Harvey sets Lucy down to hug his brother.  Oliver is four years younger, but he looks older than Harvey. His illness aged him early; when his hair came back in after the chemo it was almost entirely gray.

"You look tired, Harv."

"Long week.  Several weeks, actually.  You look good."

"I did get all the looks," Oliver agrees. Harvey shoves him playfully, before shouldering his bag and following Lucy to the car.

There's almost no traffic as Oliver drives them north, through downtown and one of the rougher areas of the city, then to his neighborhood, with wide tree-lined streets and big Victorian houses. Molly and Oliver met in the city, but they moved back to Buffalo to be closer to Molly's parents when they had Lucy.

"You better be hungry." Oliver warns. "Molly made about ten pounds of meatballs."

"I helped." Lucy says as she hops out of the car.

"Then they'll probably be disgusting, right?"

"Uh-huh. I poisoned them, just for you."

Harvey's about to tease back when his phone starts vibrating.  He pulls it out with the intention of turning it off because he's not dealing with work until at least Friday, but it's Donna's cell on the caller ID.

"Sorry, it's Donna.  I have to take this," he says and Oliver waves off his apology.

"Next time your associate does something stupid, _tell_ me so I can run interference." Donna says sharply as soon as the call connects.

"But honey, I thought you said he was _our_ associate."

"I'm not in the mood for jokes, Harvey.  I just got totally blindsided by Rachel."

"What's her problem now? She was fine when I hung up."

"You really don't understand women, do you?"

"I thought this was about Mike."

"They aren't separate issues.  Now Rachel's in this mess."

"I told her to jump ship."

"She mentioned that, but she's not like the rest of us.  She still has a conscience she listens to."

"She's not going to tell. She's too stupid in love with Mike to turn him in."

"She's not the one stupid in love with him, Harvey." Donna says softly.

"Don't." Harvey snaps.

 Donna sighs. "Fine. But you know I'm right."

"Donna, _don't._ "

"Enjoy your time off.  See you Monday," Donna says coolly, before hanging up. She'll still be annoyed with him Monday, he's sure. He'll find a way to make it up to her.

He doesn't turn his phone off, but he does silence it before sliding it back into his pocket.  He finds his family in the kitchen sitting down to eat.  Molly jumps up to greet him, and he leans down to kiss her cheek.

"I like the new hairstyle," she grins. "Now sit. Tell us all the things we're missing in the city."

"Absolutely nothing." Harvey says, scooping himself a generous helping of spaghetti. "I've only seen the inside of my condo, the inside of my car, and the inside of my office for weeks."

"Gotta slow down, bro," Oliver says, cutting up a meatball for two-year-old Natalie. "Work isn't everything."

It's not, but right now it's everything Harvey has.

 

Harvey's sitting on the front porch, watching his breath fog in the cold air and thinking, unsurprisingly, about work (and Mike) when the door swings open and Oliver comes to sit next to him, passing him a Yankees mug filled with coffee.

"Thanks."

"Figured if I'm going to sit out here freezing my ass off with you, we'd better have something hot." Oliver stretches his legs out, slouching back in his chair. "What's going on with you?"

"Nothing.  Just work."

"Harv, c’mon.  I can tell something is up."

"Remember my associate?"

"Young kid.  Total genius.  Matt?"

"Mike." Harvey sighs. "He's not a lawyer.  At least not in the way the Bar Association defines a lawyer. He never graduated law school.  Hell, he never graduated college.  I'm not sure he even _started_ college." He strains to remember if Mike’s ever mentioned it.  He’s not the one with the perfect memory, after all.

"And you're just finding out about this now?" Oliver asks, but it's not really a question. He knows Harvey better than that.

"No." He tells his brother about the pot in the briefcase and about Mike's grandmother and nearly everything between.

"Wow." Oliver says when he finishes as the streetlights start flickering on. "Jesus, Harvey."

"I know."

"So you probably should've cut him loose ages ago."

"Cut him loose?" Harvey snorts. “I never should've taken him on in the first place."

"And yet, you kept him.  And you went to bat for him. Over and over again."

"Probably against my better judgment, but yes.  What's your point?" Harvey is pretty sure he _knows_ Oliver's point, but he's not going to be the one to say it out loud.  It will mean something if he’s the one who says it first.

"You care about him.  And I’m not talking platonically.”

It's more direct than Harvey expects, and since he can't lie to his brother he says. "Maybe I do."

“You should tell him.” Oliver says, softly.  There’s no accusation in his voice, like there was with Donna earlier.

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“It’s too complicated.”

“If you’re waiting for it to be less complicated, you’re going to be waiting forever.”

Harvey doesn’t have answer for that.  He’s not _waiting_ for Mike.  That would mean that he has expectations, hopes even, which is absolutely not the case. 

 

He wakes up disoriented, and it takes him a few moments to remember it’s Thanksgiving and he’s in Buffalo.  It’s nearly ten, later than he’s slept in since college, and he showers and dresses before going down to the kitchen, where Molly is getting ready to put the turkey in the oven.

“Morning,” she smiles at him. “There’s a fresh pot of coffee brewing.”

“Where is everyone?”

“Ollie took the girls up to the corner to cheer on the runners and get them out of my hair for a bit.”

“Do you need help?” He offers.

“Not just now, but I’ll find you something to do later.” She grins at him. “How’s Donna?”

“Annoyed with me.” Harvey says without thinking.

“Uh-oh.  What did you do?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Just apologize to her, then.  You’ll feel better.”

“I never said I felt badly.”

“You didn’t have to.” Molly rolls her eyes. “You always get this hangdog look whenever you and Donna are on the outs.”

“We’re not on the outs.  We’re having a disagreement.” Harvey doesn’t _want_ to talk about it, but there’s something about Molly that always makes him spill his secrets. “Over my associate.”

“The one who’s not really a lawyer.”

“Seriously?” Harvey scowls. “I told Oliver that barely twelve hours ago.”

“Who am I gonna tell?”

“You’re more well-connected than you claim to be.”

“True,” Molly grins. “But my friends aren’t interested in corporate law stories, so I think you’ll be okay.”

“Donna is starting to think Mike is more of a risk than he’s worth.”

“Is he?”

Harvey sighs heavily. “Probably.”

“So fire him.”

“I can’t.  He’ll leave.”

“Harvey.” Molly says, her voice sympathetic.

“I know.”

She steps closer, and for a second he thinks maybe she’s going to hug him, but instead she squeezes his hand. “You’ll figure it out.”

He helps Molly make the pies for dessert and he gets an email from Donna telling him he owes her a bouquet of orchids for yesterday and several pints of Chunky Monkey for inviting Mike to her party without telling her (which, admittedly, he should have done, but he knows the email means he’s mostly forgiven).  When Oliver returns home with the girls Harvey takes over childcare, manfully putting up with being the human jungle gym and playing too many games of Candyland and Chutes and Ladders with Lucy while Natalie naps.

He can’t help taking a picture of the set table later, with turkey and all the trimmings, and sending it to Mike.  Mike replies almost immediately with a picture of an empty Chinese food carton, and then Harvey’s phone starts ringing in his hand.  Oliver shoots him a knowing look as he goes into the next room to answer it.

“That looks pretty Norman Rockwell to me.” Mike says, not waiting for Harvey’s greeting.

“I already told you, the turkey will be dry.”

“At least you have a turkey.”

“What, Chinese on Thanksgiving not working for you?”

“All of Donna’s friends are vegan.  I thought I was eating pork.  It was tofu.”

Harvey can’t help snorting. “Next time bring your own food.”

“I’m _never_ coming here again.” Mike whispers. “Donna’s drunk friend Heather keeps saying she wants to steal my skin.”

Harvey laughs outright at that. “Escape, now, before they tie you to the table for a ritual sacrifice.”

“If I die here today, you can have my panda.” Mike says solemnly.

“Screw the panda, I want the whole apartment.”

“I already promised it to Harold.”

“Of course you did.”

“Harvey, I just wanted to say thank you.  For yesterday.  And, you know, sorry.  Again.”

There are so many things Harvey could say.  But there’s only one he wants to. “You’re welcome.”

Mike stays silent on the other end of the line, like he’s waiting for Harvey to say more.  When he doesn’t, Mike clears his throat and says, “I’ll see you Monday.”

“Monday,” Harvey agrees. 

He turns off his phone then, actually feeling settled for the first time in weeks (maybe months), which is ironic since the lines between them are so tangled and blurred now that there’s no fixing it; it’s a mess and it’s only going to get messier, and maybe that should scare him but instead there’s something strangely liberating about being this out of control.  He doesn’t know what will happen (if anything) and he doesn’t know what he wants (if anything) and maybe he’ll figure it out or maybe he won’t. 

And maybe if he’s feeling generous he’ll bring some leftover dry turkey back to New York for Mike.


End file.
